


If You've Got the Shot

by Azilver



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9168691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azilver/pseuds/Azilver
Summary: He has no plan to die down here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so my mirror!verse Birthright is somewhere in the works but I did write out this scene ages ago and it was in fact my initial plot point/bunny. I still love my Hansens but it's been a bit of a tough time in the last year and a half. I hope I can eventually get the whole thing down for you all :]

He has no plan to die down here. Not with this bastard who’s rotting from the inside out.

Chuck knew it was a shit idea to have Pentecost pilot with him- dad would have pushed through the pain, like he had before- but the man had insisted. They’re not compatible, not in the true sense. And it was the man’s orders which had lost them the real back-up that Striker needed. He doesn’t care how good Mako was in the sims or that she’s actually compatible with Becket- that bastard shouldn’t even be anywhere near this and that’s not just his own personal animosity towards the man; without his brother Raleigh is an unpredictable factor.

The whole thing’s one big SNAFU from start to finish and his dad’s not even there beside him. The kaiju kick their arse the moment the fighting starts. Pentecost hasn’t been in a real fight in years and, despite Chuck’s experience in Striker, refuses to listen or let the younger man lead. Their blows are stilted and un-coordinated, the kaiju pushing them back again and again. Striker Eureka is the number one jaeger in the whole damned program and she’s being taken down, not because of a better kaiju, but because their fool marshall thinks he can do better, can take-

The flash of something through their miniscule connection is all Chuck needs to know. He hordes it to himself; let the bastard flail in the end, _he’s_ not going down on his own and he damn well intends to make sure he doesn’t go down at all.

And there it is. The systems are fried and they’ll have to set off the payload manually.  He wants them to make room for the ‘lady’. As if this has anything to do with Pentecost’s precious heir. 

“Dad.” He says through the vox, knowing that his co-pilot will understand where the man next to him doesn’t.

His father’s voice rumbles low and cold through the system. “You get the chance, you take your shot, boy. You know the rules.” And he does, has had them branded into his head as much as his father’s mark was into his skin: if you’ve got the shot you better well take it, and come through on the other side. It’s all the permission he ever needs.

Chuck thinks only of the payload as he disconnects from the conn, his movements slow and careful. From the corner of his eye he sees Pentecost typing in the sequence to set off the bomb on their backs, but what the man forgets is that Chuck spent six years in this pod, learned all of her until she was as much a part of him as the suit. He sees the careful twist of the man’s arm towards the ejection mechanism.

His first punch connects and throws the man sideways, half out of his rig. Unlike Pentecost, Chuck kept his helmet on and uses it. When the man swings at him he doesn’t duck and grins when the fist connects with the reinforced plating, then leaps forward throwing them both to the conn floor. The man is a good fighter but he wasn’t trained by Hercules Hansen, veteran of almost every conflict of the past twenty plus years. Chuck knows how to use his whole body, to take a blow so his next one will count. You don’t get through the academy at fifteen and in one piece without taking down every asshole who thinks you’re easy meat.

He brings a knee up into Pentecost’s diaphragm, rolls them so he’s on top and brings the heel of his palm up against his jaw. Chuck wants to make it last, a blow for every insult and dismissal he’s borne since taking Scott’s place beside his father, wants the man to see that Herc chose him over all others, over this rotting bastard.  But he knows their time is limited and he needs to get up there now. He cracks his helmet down, the blow stunning the man below him.

It’s enough that he can push away and into the rig stand, can activate the ejection sequence and smirk at the furious howl as the pod closes around him

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from Pacific Rim. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or world, I am just borrowing them and this story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.


End file.
